Demons, Goa'uld, Same Diff
by Sheilynn
Summary: FFA 160…BtVS & SG1. What ever happened to miniJack?


Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Whedon, et al, and SG-1 belongs to MGM, et al.

A/N: Oy…I should probably quit while I'm ahead. This one didn't turn out to be as funny as I'd hoped – it's more like a possible answer to 'what happened to mini-Jack'. I think it's still pretty good, just not funny like the first three that I did, and not angst-ridden like the fourth.

Summary: FFA #160…BtVS & SG-1. What ever happened to mini-Jack?

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**Goa'uld****, Demon…Same Diff**

"Have a seat, Mr. O'Neill."

O'Neill hesitated, extremely reluctant to place himself in the other chair, no matter _how_ pretty the young woman was.

"Sit! Now!" the woman growled.

On the other hand, the woman looked angry enough to spit nails, bullets, and many other metal projectiles that could cause him physical harm.

He sat.

Flicking open a folder, the woman perused it before speaking again.

"Do you know what I have here, Mr. O'Neill?"

He shook his head cautiously.

"This is a preliminary report from the hospital of the injuries sustained by one Mr. Redding – injuries _you_ gave him in your little…_scuffle_ earlier today – these injuries consist of an arm broken in two places, a dislocated knee, a leg broken both above _and_ below said dislocated knee, a black eye, and a broken nose. The hospital has yet to discover what internal injuries he may have obtained from your dispute. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"He threatened me with a knife! What was I supposed to do?"

"Disarming him and knocking him out would have been enough, Mr. O'Neill…it wasn't necessary for you to go all _Rambo_ on him."

He scowled.

The woman looked down at another folder for a moment before continuing.

"Your records indicate a lack of interest in _all_ subjects, but your testing results say that you're a lot more intelligent than you let on. Care to tell me what your problem is?"

"I'm a clone of a 48-year-old Air Force General…I've already _been_ to High School," O'Neill responded flippantly.

"I know…which is why you should have had more _control_ when dealing with Mr. Redding."

O'Neill's head shot up in surprise, only to see the young woman flipping through a thick folder marked 'CoS'.

"You were cloned from one General Jonathon 'Jack' O'Neill, of the United States Air Force, by beings called the 'Asgard'. General O'Neill is currently working in a Top Secret facility called Stargate Command, in which various teams travel through the Stargate to other worlds, seeking out new technology and allies. How am I doing so far, Jake?"

Jake gaped at her.

"Never mind…your fish-like expression says it all," the woman smirked. Folding her hands in front of her, she continued, "You're having trouble here because your intelligence level is beyond what High School teaches…in other words, you're bored. You miss the action from Gate travel."

"How…"

"Being in a certain place, at the right time, to see something that caught our interest enough to snoop…and we're _damn_ good at snooping, Mr. O'Neill."

"Who's _we_?" he asked suspiciously, his body stiffening in preparation to take flight if necessary.

"Chill, Jake…we're _not_ NID, legit _or_ a hidden cell, have nothing to do with Kinsey and his goons, nor are we involved in The Trust."

"The Trust?"

"Oh, right…that was after you were cloned. The Trust is a non-legit NID cell with access to Goa'uld technology, self-righteous sticks up their butts, and attitudes that are similar to religious fanatics…they claim it's their duty to protect Earth by killing _all_ the aliens…whether enemy _or_ friend."

"Damn," Jake looked ill at that. But it still didn't answer his question. "So who _are_ you, then?"

She gave him a mysterious smile.

"I'm just a representative of an organization that would like to invite you to join us, if you're interested."

"Why me?"

Flipping open the 'CoS' file again, she placed her finger about half-way down the front page, and began to speak in an offhanded manner.

"A General in the Air Force, trained in a number of Special Ops skills, experienced in hostile situations, can read and speak Latin," she looked up at him, "and, off the record, is well known for being loyal, not to mention, a fierce protectiveness when it comes to children."

"Just what kind of organization _is_ it that would require deadly skills in connection with _children_?!" Jake looked confused.

She gave him another mysterious smile before picking up a card from the desk and holding it out to him.

"If you wish to know, meet me at that address in three hours, Mr. O'Neill."

He looked at the card, which only had an address on it.

"How do I know you won't try to kidnap me?"

"If you're concerned, feel free to bring a friend. We'd prefer Dr. Daniel Jackson or Teal'c, we don't exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings for the military…oh, no offense to you, though…sorry. Besides, Dr. Jackson may also be interested in what we have to say."

Jake hesitated.

"That's all, Mr. O'Neill…you can go."

He stood, and began to make his way to the door.

"Oh, and Mr. O'Neill?" she waited for him to turn back toward her before continuing. "Our offer is probably the only thing standing between you and Juvenile Hall. But if it's any consolation, I wouldn't have taken on this counseling job in order to get to you, if I didn't think you'd be interested. I suck as a counselor."

"You weren't too bad, Ms. Summers…Top Secret government information aside, that is," Jake chuckled.

Buffy laughed.

"We hope to see you there, Jake."

He nodded his head at her, and exited the room.

The moment he stepped out, he tucked the card into the front pocket of his jeans, and made his way to the nearest pay-phone.

Dialing a number he knew by heart, it took only a moment to be picked up at the other end.

"Jack, it's mini-you…we got a problem."

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"Are you sure this is the place? It doesn't exactly scream 'business establishment'?" Daniel said as he eyed the almost _too_ cutesy cottage.

"This is the address written on the card. Maybe they plan on taking us to their business facility," Jake shrugged.

Daniel hesitated.

"Just ring the doorbell, Daniel…the front porch isn't going to give us any answers," the teen sighed in irritation.

The archaeologist reached out a hand and pressed the button, hearing a chime ring inside the house.

"Stay alert, Teal'c…I have no idea what to expect – Ms. Summers wasn't exactly forthcoming with information about this organization of hers."

"Indeed."

It only took a moment for the door to be answered, and the three men on the porch gawked at the appearance of a svelte looking brunette woman.

"Niiiice," she drawled as she looked Teal'c up and down. "B didn't tell me that tall, dark, and studly would be making an appearance."

The three men gaped at her.

The brunette laughed at their expressions before stepping back and waving them in.

"Come on in…Red's waiting in the living room. I'm Faith…don't worry about introductions, I already know who _you_ are."

Closing the door behind them, she maneuvered herself past the three men and led them to a room a short distance away, where a red-headed woman sat on one of the couches, the only occupant in the room.

"Where's Ms. Summers, Miss…" Daniel began, trailing off when he realized that Faith hadn't provided a last name.

"Just Faith, mini-tweedman, and you'll be seein' B soon enough…we're just waitin' for a couple of other people to show up," Faith said, waving them towards the couches. "Have a seat. That's Red over there…otherwise known as Willow."

Willow gave them a small wave, smiling a little shyly.

"Who are we waiting for, if you don't mind me asking?" Daniel asked, nervously adjusting his glasses.

Faith and Willow exchanged amused glances.

"The rest of your team, Dr. Jackson…they're entering through the back door just now, and should be bursting through the doorway, waving their guns and making demands, any minute now."

The three men looked startled and moved to jump from their seats…but found that they couldn't move…or speak. Daniel and Jake looked panicked, but Teal'c only raised an eyebrow.

Just like they said, General O'Neill and Colonel Carter burst through the doorway, pointing their guns at the two women.

"Who the hell are you people?!" the older O'Neill barked.

Faith just grinned and turned towards Willow, who was glowing faintly at that point.

"Ready to go?"

"Ready, set…going 'poof' now."

At her words, there was a flash of bright light.

That was the last thing Faith and Willow's guests saw before losing consciousness.

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"Carter! Come on, Carter! Snap out of it!"

Colonel Samantha Carter felt someone lightly slapping her cheek, and she groggily opened her eyes.

"What happened," she groaned, attempting to sit up.

General O'Neill helped her from where he knelt at her side.

"Don't know…but we're all here, wherever _here_ **is**."

Standing up, he held out a hand and pulled her to her feet where she swayed a moment before getting her bearings.

She saw the others nearby. Teal'c and Daniel were already fully recovered, the latter helping a groggy Jake to his feet.

They were in a large room that held a long marble-topped table surrounded by several chairs…it looked like a conference room.

O'Neill immediately caught sight of their weapons lying in a pile at the center of the table. Stalking over, he reached for his P-90, but was zapped by some kind of force field.

"Ow! Dammit." He shook his hand. "Goa'uld force field?"

"Could be, sir, but I'd have to examine it more closely…"

"That's quite unnecessary, Colonel Carter…it's a magical one, not Goa'uld," a male, British voice said.

The group turned to see a man enter the room – he was tall, in good shape, wore glasses, and was somewhere around mid- to late- forties, his hair dusted lightly with grey at his temples. He took a seat at the head of the table.

"Who are you?! And what do you want?" O'Neill demanded.

"My name is Rupert Giles, and if you wish to know why you were brought here, I would please ask that you take a seat…it's a long story," Giles said as he waved them to the chairs at the opposite end of the table. "The others will be joining us in a moment."

At their hesitation, he gave them a faint smile.

"No harm will come to you and your group, General, I give you my word."

"How about giving us our weapons instead, Mr. Giles…your word doesn't mean anything, since we know nothing about you."

"No can do, Jackie-poo…we disarmed you for _our_ protection," a small blonde-haired woman said as she entered the room, followed by three other women, and three men. "Hi there, Jake…I see you brought your entourage. I didn't think I scared you _that_ much."

"Hello to you too, Ms. Summers," Jake chuckled. "You and I _both_ know the entourage has more to do with the government secrets you were spilling than it does with my fear…not that I was afraid, mind you."

"Of course not. And call me Buffy," she smiled at him. Then turned towards her companions, who had seated themselves near Giles, pointing at each of them. "Since we already know who each of you are, let me introduce our group. You've already met Giles…the others are Dawn, Faith, Willow, Xander, Andrew, and Robin. Don't worry about Mr. this and Ms. that…the meeting may be formal, but we're not."

"Meeting for what?" Daniel asked confused.

"Why, for the hiring of Mr. Jake O'Neill, Dr. Jackson, among other things."

"Hiring…for what?"

"That's what this meeting is about," Buffy smirked at him. "And before you ask, the _other_ things have to do with you…or more specifically, the SGC...if it didn't, you and the others would have been left behind."

Daniel opened his mouth to say something again, but was halted by Buffy raising a hand to stop him.

"Just listen, Dr. Jackson…if you have questions afterwards, we'll be happy to answer them. Please, take a seat…all of you. The sooner we start, the sooner you'll understand."

He nodded his head, taking a seat, the others quickly following suit.

"Hit it, Giles."

Giles adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat. "This world is older than any of you know, and contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, demons walked the earth; made it their home...their Hell. In time they lost their purchase on this reality, and the way was made for the mortal animals. For Man…"

The oldest Watcher continued his explanation, watching, with amusement, the varying degrees of disbelief appear on most of their faces – Teal'c being the only one who was suspending judgment.

He went through the history of Slayers, demons, and vampires, before giving the general details of their own group's personal accomplishments…everything up to, and including, the final battle in Sunnydale.

And finally, he was finished.

"You expect us to believe all that…that…_hooey_?!" General O'Neill said incredulously before abruptly standing, "Come on, guys, we're outta he…re…"

O'Neill trailed off as some…_thing_ entered the room, pushing a coffee cart in front of him. It wasn't human, what with the baggy skin, floppy ears, and a set of sharp teeth showing through its grin.

The others in his group turned to see just what was making the General's eyes widen so much that they were in danger of popping out. They stared, gob-smacked.

"Anyone care for something to drink? I have coffee, tea, water, and assorted sodas. Oh! And I even have your favorite cookies, Buffy."

Buffy and the others in their group perked up at the thought of sustenance in the form of caffeinated beverages, and quickly made their requests.

"Clem…you are a _godsend_!" Buffy exclaimed as she inhaled the aroma of her mocha latte.

SG-1 and Jake just continued to stare…that is, until Buffy pounded her fist on the table.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" she asked calmly, but firmly. "Clem asked you if you'd like something to drink."

They tried to stop, but their eyes continued to be drawn back to the oddity that _shouldn't_ exist.

"I-I'll have coffee…please," Daniel said hesitantly.

Clem efficiently poured the man a large mug of the dark substance, and patiently waited for the others to request their preferences.

Thankfully, it only took a moment for them to snap out of their shock, to some degree, and make their own requests. As soon as he filled their orders, Clem wheeled the cart out of the room.

In the ensuing silence (Jack's group in disbelief, and Buffy's in amusement), a dropped pin could be heard, if anyone cared to drop one.

"What…what was _that_?" Daniel asked in a stunned voice.

"Tholac demon…a relatively peaceful sort, and one of the best damn cooks we have on staff," Giles replied mildly, taking a sip of his tea. "Are you ready to listen _now_, General?"

"Just _why_ do you want to hire Jake, Mr. Giles?" O'Neill asked gruffly.

"Because we have 248 new Slayers that are in desperate need of training and guidance. Jake may only be 16, but he carries the same knowledge, skill, and leadership qualities you, yourself, possess, General. Something we are in short supply of."

"What makes you think they'd listen to a 16 year old, Mr. Giles…no offense, Jake."

Jake rolled his eyes.

"Because, General O'Neill, most of the new Slayers are between the ages of 10 and 14," Giles replied softly, a flash of sadness briefly flitting through his eyes.

O'Neill and his group gaped at the British man.

"You have _children_ fighting against these…these vampires and demons?" the General asked, looking ill.

"Not by choice…it's just the way things have always been. And we are doing the best we can to make sure they _all_ survive…why do you think we have need of Jake O'Neill?"

"Even though he's barely older than the new Slayers, he can teach them to survive, show them how to work together as a team, and, most importantly, will _care_ about them," Buffy quietly answered Giles' question for them. "We _need_ him."

"I'm in," Jake replied firmly.

"Jake…"

"No, Jack…it's _my_ decision. You _know_ I'm being wasted in High School," the younger man said firmly. "I can _do_ something here…make a difference…_fight_ again, though it'll be an entirely _different_ war."

"But…"

"Jack…let him go," Daniel said softly. "You never _were_ one to sit still when you knew there was a war going on…he's no different."

O'Neill ran a hand through his hair before looking at his clone, the younger version of himself.

"You sure about this?"

"Yes!"

"Then…OK. But if you need us…"

"You'll be right there, guns blazing…I know," Jake smirked at him.

O'Neill shook his head in amusement, but gave his silent approval.

"Um…not to change the subject, but you also said the meeting was about us, the SGC," Daniel began hesitantly. "How are _we_ involved?"

Buffy gave him an amused look, "Because I'm to become the fourth member of your team, Dr. Jackson."

"Hell no!" O'Neill scowled firmly.

Two voices yelled 'Jack!', one 'Sir!', and the fourth only lifted his eyebrow…again.

"I'm not taking on another civilian, especially for SG-1!"

"Gee, thanks, Jack," Daniel frowned at him.

"Is that an indication that I'm going to go blind in my old age?" Jake scowled, startling the others with how much he looked like his older counterpart. "She's a Slayer, stupid."

"The oldest one currently alive," Buffy offered with an amused smile.

"So?"

Buffy stood up and walked to the other end of the table, carrying a small stack of paper. She laid a stapled set in front of the General and each member of SG-1 (minus Jake), then returned to her seat.

"What's this?" Carter asked as she picked up her set.

"My resumé."

They scanned through it, and soon exclamations of surprise burst out.

"You _died_?!"

"_Twice_?!"

"You were in _Heaven_?!"

"And were ripped out?!"

"You dated two _vampires_?!"

"Dawn!"

Dawn giggled.

"Does that mean you'll start dating _Goa'uld's_?"

"Jack!"

"I'm just asking!"

"**_Enough_**!" Giles shouted over the multitude of talking voices.

Everyone fell silent.

"I suggest you read through Buffy's accomplishments, _including_ her weaponry skills, _before_ you make a final decision, General O'Neill," the British man stated firmly. "_Quietly_."

There were several minutes of silence, interrupted by a few gasps and one whistle.

"You're trained in a lot of guns, Ms. Summers. Why?" Carter asked in surprise.

"When my Slayer vision indicated that I would be working with the military, I thought I should prepare myself," she shrugged.

"Forget that! She's trained in explosives, and her hobbies are to blow up 60-foot demon snakes and high schools," O'Neill said with a chuckle.

"Dawn! That's the last time I have you put together my resumé," Buffy grumbled.

Dawn just giggled again.

"As impressive as all this is, Ms. Summers, give me one good reason _why_ we should hire you?" O'Neill said as he tossed the papers on the table in front of him.

"Only one? I can give you several," she smirked. "Speed, strength, expertise in hand-to-hand combat, trained in several weapons, visions of the future…oh, and this nifty little spell Willow taught me."

"And what…spell would that be?" the General lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, just this little one that would keep certain pesky snakes from entering your body," she responded flippantly.

The General and his group sat up straight and stared at her in shock.

"I'm afraid it's not something that you guys would be able to learn, though…something to do with having been heavily exposed to the mystical world, not to mention having lived on an active Hellmouth for seven years. But I'd be happy to share…"

"You're hired."

"Sir!"

"Carter."

"But sir…we don't know if she can get the proper clearance."

Buffy stood up and walked down to the other end of the table again, dropping a stack of paperwork in front of the General.

"What's this?"

"Security clearance, transfer papers, military recommendations, yadda, yadda, yadda. You just need to sign them," she threw over her shoulder as she returned to her seat.

"How?"

"We have several…connections, General O'Neill, that's all you need to know," Giles said firmly.

"Then I guess you're hired, Ms. Summers, when can you start?"

"How's tomorrow sound?"

"That soon?"

"We've known for a few weeks that this was going to happen…plenty of time to prepare. My stuff is already at the house you guys came through."

"Yeah, about that…"

"Portal."

"Uh…OK. I hope you'll expand on that at some point," O'Neill looked at her dubiously.

She just gave him a non-committal smile before standing.

"So, how about a tour before we go?"

O'Neill's group eagerly stood.

After giving the group a tour of the new Council of Slayers' facility – which, though rough, was impressive, given the fact that they had only thrown it together in the last four months – the group returned to the same conference room they had woken up in, and watched as Buffy gave her tearful good-byes to her friends and family.

She stopped in front of Jake, who was standing a little to the side of the Scoobies.

Pulling him into a hug, she whispered, "Take care of my girls, Jake."

"Or you'll rip my arms off?"

Laughing, she stepped back. "You learn quick, young Jedi."

Jake chuckled before he sobered. "I'll do my best, Buffy. And…thanks."

Buffy gave him a look of understanding. "It's hard _not_ to be a warrior, especially when you've been doing it for so long…I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did."

"It was close," he gave her a rueful grin. "Oh, by the way…if you're interested, a certain General finds strong, blonde-haired women _highly_ attractive."

Buffy looked over at the grey-haired man, giving him a speculative once-over.

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

Seeing her interest, Jake wondered if Jack would kill him when he found out.

Giving him another hug, Buffy said good-bye, and walked over to Jake's former team, threading her arm through the General's. Dragging him along with her, they disappeared through another doorway, leaving Jake to his new life.

Jake felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of kicking demon ass.

It couldn't be as hard as going up against the Goa'uld.

Could it?

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Hope it wasn't _too_ bad…but maybe I should take a hiatus for a bit, and work on my _other_ stories.

As always, your reviews would be greatly appreciated!


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